


amalgamation

by dinEli



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Slice of Life, also sort of, i just really needed to write something about these two, you know scott and buffy tough babes sort of leaders uniting forces
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-03-07 08:40:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3168560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinEli/pseuds/dinEli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's calm and soft, she's loud and fierce, and they find each other's gaze in the middle of the world's biggest mess and don't let go until their paths go separate ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy your reading!

He's calm and soft, she's loud and fierce, and they find each other's gaze in the middle of the world's biggest mess and don't let go until their paths go separate ways. Take care of their battle wounds, brace themselves for the next time the earth shifts and something else goes out to end them.

(It's always them.)

Their stare weights on their respective hearts until they meet again.

This time it lasts longer.

She's over 30 and he's barely 20, yet both have already seen more of life and death than they wanted or even deserved to. Yet both have already lifted more than they ever thought they could take.

At first, she thinks he's sort of stupid-  _idealistic, yes_ , but unrealistic nonetheless, outright idiotic; what- _did he think that chatting to the monsters would make them go back crawling to freaking Hell? _And he thinks she's kind of  _rumbustious_ \- sure, her methods work, but- she's mostly ruthless.

_ (Did he think she wanted to be who she was?  _

_ And what, did she also think he chose this? _

So maybe they were chosen, but they also chose, and that made every difference.)

He was enraptured by her, with her long blond hair and sharp  movements and her wild  personality and her strength -so much of it- that hit too close to the heart. And he thought she was some kind of force of the nature, like a hurricane or a thunderstorm; deadly and beautiful and unstoppable. Yet she'd touch his shoulders with small and nearly weightless hands, neatly manicured, and then give him the tiniest lipsticked-smile that would fill his mind and his veins with reassurances and faith.

On himself, on her, on them.

And she admits to having underestimated him, what with his youth and humble attitude, never afraid of asking for help or showing weakness-

He was far too gentle and kind -so kind it hit too close to the heart: how he instantly considerates those around him\- and he was caring, soothing even; yet there was such power within his gaze- and on his grip, and on his low and calm voice. There was this piercing current underneath his actions, like he held the earth's fucking core inside his chest. And it made her believe, it made her trust. 

On him, on herself, on them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idek, man!! I just love them as these buddies who bicker a lot and disagree a lot but not-so-secretly admire each other fighting off the supernatural together. There'll probably be more on the way, or not. But most probably yes. [winks]
> 
> Thank you for reading it anyway!
> 
> And if you want, I'm on [tumblr](https://a-good-finder.tumblr.com), and it'd be nice to talk about whatever :)


	2. still

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unsurprisingly, they found themselves lying side by side on an old motel twin bed, waiting for the world to bent at their will again, or so she had joked a few minutes before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not even I believed I could come up with something else about them, but I did; they keep coming back!  
> Enjoy your reading.

Unsurprisingly, they found themselves lying side by side on an old motel twin bed, waiting for the world to bent at their will _again_ , or so she had joked a few minutes before.

Their worn out, overused bones felt scratchy and fucking fidgety, restless, their nerves on fire and their veins itchy, their blood running frantic with anxiety, their eyes red-shot for being awake for too long, watching the ceiling above them with-

_With an intensity that should be their trademark, she had thought._

It still shocked her, even after all those years. That she couldn't detach herself from- _the world, really_. That she could _still_ look through their hell-bent-tinted glasses and want to be a protector. Although it seemed natural to _him_ , all bundled nerves, with shoulders that appeared to be _made_ to hold the weight of the world; it still surprised her that she could find that strength, that ferocity in _her_ marrow, in _her_ own core.

_(She always thinks it's going to run out._

_She always expects to feel dull all over. After everything._

_It never does._

_Instead, she feels too much.)_

Taking an intake of breath, unable to stand the heavy silence that was stretching around their room, that felt like a hot mass of air, that was suffocating her in ways that a hand around her throat couldn't-

She breathed out.

"FYI, my head's aching like a bitch from all that strategy talking", she ended up saying, unable to keep her mouth shut- _still_ unable to be quiet, still needing to pull all of _that_ out.

And saw his crooked jaw relaxing somehow before he answered.

"And you were once part of a freaking _squad_! Dude, my entire experience with strategy came from the times I saw Stiles playing RPG", and then he chuckled in that easy way of his, like he could hide the fact that talking about his life outside their world-saving mission hurt like fuck.

"Well, my brain disagrees", he sighed and bumped her forearm with his elbow, in his wolf way of acknowledging the compliment and giving support yet without a single word spoken. It worked, and she felt lighter.

They shared a smile, his understandment clear on his dimples and unfurrowed brows.

That nobody can get _used_ to this life they lead. That their issues will always be _stills_ and _yets_ and _after all this times_. And that there's just no running away from it.

_That sometimes she just needs to throw up stupid remarks so as to empty herself, so as to not feel trapped inside- plans, and apocalypses, and monsters, and survival, and being Buffy._

And that there's just dealing. Waiting for it to pass. Waiting for it to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, it was gloomy and kinda dark, but that's their future to me ): I'm thinking on Scott's pov next chapter, but I can't promise there will be a next chapter, only that I've thought about it and [sighs]. Hope you enjoyed it? It was one of those times when writing lead straight to posting and I'm not sure how to feel about it. Tell me! :)
> 
> And if you want, I'm on [tumblr](https://a-good-finder.tumblr.com), and it'd be nice to talk about whatever :)


	3. nature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's harder, he thinks. It makes things harder. Because they're like animals. And you don't kill animals for how they're made. It's their nature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again, I guess.

He finds it odd, at first. That these creatures look like humans and yet she tells him they're not. _They don't feel emotions like humans do._ They're monsters in ways his fully turned face can't even begin to be compared to.

But- he thinks. _However_. Some of them can. Feel like humans do. He's seen it. Sure, it can be a lot fucked up, but they feel kinship and, he's noticed, some version of love that is beautiful in its strangeness. He's always seen love, even when born from harsh circumstances, as pure.

These creatures are not monsters, he's thought out loud. _They love. And love purifies us._

She would huff at that. But the look she'd give him- hell, it was almost fond.

Pitiful.

_Oh, you poor boy. You have no idea how the world works, do you?_

Thing is: he does. Scott McCall knows how the world goes. He knows what its axis are made of. He's seen it too many times. He's not blind to it.

It just- it just doesn't harden him. It doesn't stop him. It doesn't barricade this feeling he's got that maybe he can embrace it all. He can make it better if he can make it softer. If he tries. If he softens _himself_.

(And _it is_ paralleled to her. To how she reacts to this same desire. To make the world their own- their way.

(Stiles would call it "the hero's bullshit", and Scott would look at her and shrug and well- it can of is.)

The difference is that she sharpens it. That the world at her hands is edgy.

She once told him she sees herself as a blizzard, while he is summer breeze. He chuckled, "oh I wish, Buff."

 _Oh I don't, Scotty._ "Sometimes I want to be a hurricane."

"Sometimes I think I am.")

He finds it odd. And he finds it sad, because monsters are monsters for they were wired that way. Humans, no. Humans are wired as humans. And sometimes being monsters become their choice.

When he told her that, watching her clean her weapons, he saw her jaw lock, and even without his werewolf senses and even without his sensible manner- he saw her heart break in its cracks.

"At last," she whispered, "we agree on something, kid."

It's harder, he thinks. It makes things harder. Because they're like animals. And you don't kill animals for how they're made. It's their nature.

And she plays with her daggers in that sometimes dramatic way of hers- that reminds him-

Fuck, that reminds him _so much_ -

-and says, "so that's mine."

_That's my nature._

"Make a choice, kid. Or nature's gonna make it for you."

The problem is- even when deciding with his brain, he decides with his heart. And his heart has already made its mind.

That's his nature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is both my best and my worst and I can't explain why. Since I've always thought it would be a problem the way each of them see their "monsters" (and also how their monsters are identified, in their respective mythologies), and well. This is the result. I'm extremely in love and in disgust with it, so help me choose one!
> 
> Take care,
> 
> And if you want, I'm on [tumblr](https://a-good-finder.tumblr.com), and it'd be nice to talk about whatever :)


	4. recognition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death has a face they too quickly recognize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terribly sorry for all the theys and theirs that I couldn't replace ):
> 
> Also, for the theme. It's heavy and it stinks of this depression heroes sometimes bear (specially these two).
> 
> Nonetheless, enjoy your reading!

Once, while battling against evil, as they do, death faced them one more time.

Those are features they both know too well, to be honest.

And if their eyes widened a little bit, it was only in the ever surprised manner it caught them.

It's not like they weren't expecting it. They always are, on a sharp curve, on a dark night, on a silent day.

Just as they acknowledge their heartbeats and breaths, they also know the quietness of their bodies.

Not in an abstract way, though.

They've felt it, they've been there.

Death has a face they already too quickly recognize.

(Death has a face they sometimes dream about. In its relief, in its calmness, numbness.

Ending on itself as if not existing.)

Still, silly humanity, silly fear- it makes them feel unprepared. Though she recovers first, and he follows no more than seconds later.

(Yet, for one half gasp- they _gasp_.)

For her, it's strategic. At first, in this mere moment. It's- _how can I take them down with me? How can I win this with my life?_

It's not different for him. Their bodies haven't been their own for such a long time it creates no internal argument it would on a less accustomed person.

There's no impediment, no struggle.

It's logical, but at the same time so emotional it could kill them before their enemy did.

Their souls exposed and ready to be sacrificed for a fight they hadn't stopped _fighting_ since their teenage years.

Unrelenting, never ending.

Eternal in its finality.

It passes before their steely yet vulnerable eyes. Jaws harden, knuckles whiten. Their bodies are ready to push back, their brains are throwing possibilities. Their souls give.

They don't want to- but. They would, if it came. If it got them. They would take it as it hit.

(And it was selfish- _god it was so selfish!_  How bad they've wanted sometimes.

They are not young enough to believe the world would be a better place without them anymore. They know their worth.

But they are tired. That's the truth.)

As their enemy fell, either by her ruthless hand or by his furrowed eyes, they shared this moment-

This recognition.

As their souls built themselves back, resigned in their posture.

They saw in each other- this wild feeling. When it's not adrenaline, when it's not survival instinct.

It's resilience.

(When all they want is to stop.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I'm sorry. I've been thinking about using death as a theme for this fanfic for too long (actually one week but whatever). And I really came to this conclusion that for all their differences, when it comes to their sacrifices and their single-mindness towards their mission, Buffy and Scott are the same. 
> 
> (If you disagree, let me know! I'd love to talk about this.)
> 
> Thank you for reading,
> 
> And if you want, I'm on [tumblr](https://a-good-finder.tumblr.com), and it'd be nice to talk about whatever :)


	5. comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's the things we give up. You told me that."
> 
> "Bitterly."
> 
> They share a small huff of laughter. 
> 
> "Well, I don't think you can admit to something like that without any hint of bitterness."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's bigger, lighter, and more different than the others. There are waffles and teamness. Just an FYI [winks]

The blazing glare coming from the uncovered window woke her up, though she didn't try opening her eyes.

She was sweaty, the combination of the sun's unforgiving light and her own heat creating pools of transpiration around the edges of her body.

Also, the warmth of the bed, coming from the thick blanket she was under.

(The fact she had had an hallucination-inducing fever the night before, as well.)

It meant her body had healed itself, even though she felt as if it was jelly, and she was still counting graces from where she could.

Carefully, the door to the small bedroom she was tucked in is opened, and first his hand then Scott's concerned yet hopeful face appears- he smiles at her.

"How are you feeling?", he asks, slowly entering the room, and her senses, ever too sharp, notice the quick check up he makes on her state. At last, he focuses his grin on her.

"Well, I do feel like someone who's got the crap kicked out of her by some mythological creature, but- you know.", then she shrugs, as she does. "Figure of speech."

The resulting laughter encourages her to get out of bed and face her purple-red bruises, as normal people would.

It's kind of revitalizing.

"Come on, I made you some breakfast", Scott's already leaving the room, laughing to himself and shaking his head, amused.

And- well.

It's not like she's embarrassed or anything, cos Buffy Summers doesn't _do_ embarrassed, she's been through far too many cringy situations to even bother with such things as awkwardness.

But, you know. There are situations, and then _situations_ ; and her gut feels heavy. "So, where's your mom?", she calls as her sticky blanket is thrown toward the other side of the room, checking how wet and dirty her skin looks.

It's bad, she probably needs one of those showers with the strongest jets of water and some sponges to even _start_ feeling clean.

"She's at work", he yells back, knowing she wouldn't be able to listen otherwise.

Uh, okay.

So she easily gets out of bed, and starts padding slowly on the wooden floor, following the sounds of Scott cooking and humming downstairs.

Trying not to pay attention- not to think on how much of a painful reminder his walls and family photos are.

Everything is so homey, and she can see the hands of Scott's mom in it. Of Scott's, too. Their care.

It's warm and cozy, and she tries not to let the nauseous streaming of nostalgia get to her, but it's there. She swallows it thickly, and it's situated at her throat.

It gets worse and better once she arrives at the kitchen. There are breakfast smells and Scott's running around setting the table.

He gives her another small smile once she sits down. It's inviting and comforting.

There's a third plate by Scott's side.

"Uh... I thought you said your mom was working?", she's already nervous and cautious.

God, that's so awkward.

"She is. But today's Friday which means she must be on her way home."

Buffy swallows hard. And damn this perceptive werewolf boy, he raises an eyebrow.

"Buffy...?"

"What? I just don't wanna share my awesome food, is all. I mean did y-"

"It's just my mom. What are you nervous about?", his voice is part concerned part amused, and she kind of wants to punch him.

"Ugh-"

"You told me it was cool for me to tell her about you... Wasn't it?"

Damn this kid.

(Though her thoughts are so _fond_.)

"She's cool with it. I mean, as cool as it goes", he swallows and sets his juice on the table. That's probably a sensitive matter. "She understands.

-She won't judge you for being who you are, Buff."

At that, she finally reacts. Letting go of the lip she's been biting. She scoffs.

"I doubt she'll be 100% whatever towards a woman-", they share a look in which his college jersey is the main focus, "who drags her _young_ son to- literally, by the way- hellish dangers."

His eyes are part gentleness part steel and she's always half impressed with this boy.

"First of all, you hardly drag me anywhere. I go where I want to."

"I know-"

"No, Buffy. I'm serious. If anything, it's good we've met. That we can unite forces."

"Yeah yeah, _pack mentality_ ", she'll never get used to it, though.

And he knows that, so he amends. "We're a team."

They move in sync, she slumps against her chair as he sits straighter on his.

"It's a good thing. And my mom understands this."

His brows do this strange thing they sometimes do; they work themselves out to put his eyes on, and it's the only thing you can see.

"Okay?" She sighs and nods, hating that they're so different yet can talk and discuss as equals.

(She doesn't hate it. In fact, she appreciates this the most. But-)

"Is this also about the age thing? Cos you know she doesn't care."

Okay, she tells herself. It's not like they can't rip the truth out of each other's throats.

"It's about everything, Scott."

He takes a bite off his waffle, his eyes never leaving her face, and she slumps even more.

"I'm nearly her age, yes. But- _worse!_ \- she's your mom, you guys have this cozy and beautiful house. And I barely set foot in my dingy apartment, cos I'm running around killing s-"

"I know", his tone is low and serious, and she feels like screaming.

Of course he does.

"It's the things we give up. You told me that."

"Bitterly."

They share a small huff of laughter.

"Well, I don't think you can admit to something like that without any hint of bitterness."

She knows if the table were smaller, he'd already be holding her hand; in that comforting way he always figures how to.

"Seriously, Buff. Don't worry. My mom understands and if anything, she's relieved I have you to lean on."

I'm relieved too, she wants to say; getting the sort of protectiveness she imagines it's a quarter of what his mom must feel.

Instead she takes a forkful of waffles and states: "Yeah, whatever- those are some fine waffles."

He smiles fully at that, thankful, understanding. Comforting. As he does.

And Buffy feels as part of it- the house, the coziness. Nostalgia doesn't taste as bad the next time it hits.

They take their small miracles as they come.

It tastes the sweetest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you've enjoyed this one. It was a bit different from the others, even a little happier; and I'm still trying to cover every element of their partnership.
> 
> Anyway, reviews are always welcome; take care!
> 
> And if you want, I'm on [tumblr](https://a-good-finder.tumblr.com), and it'd be nice to talk about whatever :)


End file.
